


Like a strawberry (so sweet)

by perfeggso



Series: Reader-Insert One-Shots [1]
Category: NCT (Band), SuperM (Korea Band)
Genre: Also personally I don’t like writing “y/n” if I can avoid it, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Canon Compliant ig, Established Relationship, F/M, Face-Fucking, Fluff, Hand Jobs, I swear this is mostly cute tho, Light Femdom, Mild Degradation, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Overstimulation, Pegging, Sex Toys, Shameless Smut, So uh TY gets pegged, Sub!Taeyong, TY tears up, Tbh this is so self-indulgent it’s gross, The strawberry dress, also I can write other gender reader-insert I’m just a girl so I’m starting catering to me haha, not on TY I just include it bc I want it, so this fic is pet names and titles all the way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:46:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26196604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perfeggso/pseuds/perfeggso
Summary: Taeyong is coming off a brief hiatus from promoting where you helped him through his stress and looked after his health.  One day, he comes home with a few gifts and you are more than happy to help him trade one stress release habit for another.In short: Taeyong gets exactly what he deserves (and what he’s asked for).
Relationships: Lee Taeyong/Reader
Series: Reader-Insert One-Shots [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1902412
Comments: 11
Kudos: 63





	Like a strawberry (so sweet)

**Author's Note:**

> #mengetpegged 
> 
> Inspired by Taeyong answering the question “who has the most out-of-control spending in NCT?” by referring to himself as Kittyong, saying it was him, and asking to be scolded for it..../:
> 
> Title taken roughly from the lyrics to “Strawberry” by Twice 
> 
> Alternatively titled, “my love of Lee Taeyong is stronger than my hatred of rich people”... Enjoy
> 
> Obligatory [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3x7jIccD1wJy3799q4htNw?si=WbC7YKdEROOTjhh5Gon6dA)

It’s an unseasonably refreshing July evening when you finish with your schedule for the day. You look out the window of your apartment, admiring the mid-summer green and the golden hour light sparkling off the Han River and N Seoul Tower in the distance. You pat yourself on the back mentally for being so productive: you went for a run this morning, registered for classes for the next semester of grad school, and finished everything you were supposed to do for work-from-home. The consequence of all this butt-kicking taking care of business though, is that you are exhausted. 

You drop into your bed, drawing the string on the beige hoody your boyfriend had left behind tighter to breathe in the warmth of it. Your phone buzzes against the sheets, lighting up with a message that just so happens to be from him. He’s on his way over – with _presents_ , no less – and upon reading that, you think that maybe you aren’t so tired after all.

 _Taeyong_. He’d been a bit under the weather with stress and fatigue near the end of 127’s promotions. In fact, you’d been briefly worried that he’d caught COVID19 or something. But he hadn’t, and you’d helped him through the rough patch until he was back to his old self and ready for SuperM’s comeback. 

You’re beyond excited for him; for how well the boys are being received all over the world; for how much fun Taeyong has with his NCT members and his hyungs, but you can’t help the petulant thought in your head that this meant he’d go back to being his insanely busy idol self and the two of you would have to make do with the brief moments you could snatch up backstage at KBS, in the 127 dorm, in your car, etc. You sigh. _This is what you signed up for_ , you tell yourself, trying to focus on the fact that you’re about to have him all to yourself, not in some nebulous future, but in a matter of minutes. 

He busts through the door of your studio apartment about fifteen minutes later (he knows the downstairs combo and you gave him a spare key over a year ago at this point). He’s wearing jeans, those Nike sneakers he drew Takashi Murakami-style flowers on, his baby blue ‘Unicorns and Rainbows’ hoodie pulled tight around his head so no saesangs or Dispatch photographers would see him entering the building, and a black cloth facemask over his mouth and nose. He carries two Starbucks coffees (iced americano for him, iced caramel macchiato for you) and a slew of shopping bags from some of his favorite high-end stores. 

“Hi babe,” he trills once he’s set all the bags on the floor, does a little spin as he pulls his mask down to sip his coffee, slips his shoes off, and dances to whatever is playing through his AirPods. He takes them out and puts them away in his pocket along with the mask, then holds out your drink, giving you his best eye-smile. “I got you your favorite!” 

You use all the energy you can muster to get up off your comfy bed (the only force more powerful than relaxation being Lee Taeyong) and cross to him over the wooden floor. You take a sip, thanking him with a peck of a kiss. 

“You’re so sweet,” you say, watching his tongue dart across his lips. 

“Mm,” he teases. “So are you.” He can barely get it out before he’s giggling at his own corniness, and the sound makes you want to wrap him up and hold him forever. 

Once he’s done melting your heart with his laugh for the millionth time, he makes a long sound of contemplation in the back of his throat, surveying his many, many purchases as if trying to keep count of a group of kindergarteners – actually, scratch that, because you’d seen him employ this exact tactic to maintain a headcount as NCT’s leader, so it was apparently equally effective with teenagers and adult men. 

You let your eyes drop and wander over the bags: Prada, Supreme, Nike, Louis Vuitton. You roll your eyes when he isn’t looking, sucking your green straw through the side of your mouth judgmentally. You must admit though, the label on one of the bags catches your attention, but you don’t let yourself get your hopes up. 

Taeyong finishes taking stock (he’s a very thorough person – sometimes he shows up unannounced to clean your apartment when he’s run out of things to tidy at the dorm) and he catches you looking. He smirks slightly, but at the same time you think you see the expression tinged with the smallest hint of guilt. 

“Don’t get too excited,” he quips. “Most of it isn’t for you.”

You pull a face at him and he laughs sheepishly. “How dare you, Lee Taeyong, come over to _my_ place uninvited and flaunt all the designer shit you bought for yourself?”

“It’s not all for _me_ either!” he protests, pulling his hood fully down and then going to mess with his fingertips. His hair is in the Todoroki dye-job he got for SuperM’s comeback: half red and half white-gold. It takes all your self-control not to start mussing it up with both hands. Instead, you swat his wrist lightly with a coffee-condensation-damp finger and he quits picking his nails, mumbling an apology. It almost makes you feel bad, so you wrap an arm around your boyfriend and pull him into your side. His body is firm and toned against you under all the soft, oversized clothes. He favors the style when he comes to see you since it’s harder for people to identify him by his body shape or something, and you understand (as much as you love the way he looks in tailored clothing). 

“Oh, so some of it _is_ for me?” you sing-song. “You did say you had presents. Plural.”

Taeyong lifts an eyebrow, seeming proud of himself. “Well, some of it is gifts for the guys: to say thanks for their good work during this comeback, and a lot of it is my own new purchases. I came here straight from shopping, so I didn’t have time to take that stuff back home yet.” You give him a look meant to communicate ‘get to the point.’ “But, uh, I do have some things for you.” He reaches down and picks up the pink bag you’d been eyeing, and you let yourself get a little excited. “Here,” he says, extending the gift like a little boy giving a valentine to his crush. 

“Can I see what’s in it?” you ask, setting your coffee on the kitchen counter and taking the bag from him. He nods, grinning, and you don’t need any more encouragement – you plunge your hand into cloud-light sparkly packing paper and yank out the item buried beneath it, the pink tulle rough and soft all at once on the pads of your fingers. 

You hold the gift out in front of you, grinning right back at your boyfriend. It’s a dress – _the_ dress – the Lirika Matoshi Strawberry Dress you’d taken note of when it took over the internet a couple weeks ago, and which you’d been obsessed with and unable to shut up about ever since. You hold it by the shoulders, admiring the princess sleeves, the plunging neckline and bows, the dusty pink color, and the undulating sparkle of the little embellished strawberries scattered across the fabric like freckles. You think you now understand what people mean when they refer to dresses as “confections.” It’s so pretty, you’re almost afraid to wear it now that you have it. 

Taeyong looks on expectantly, eyes flickering between watching your face and taking in the dress’s full majesty. “Do you like it?” _Do I like it?_ you repeat in your head absurdly. _This silly boy_. 

You practically launch yourself at him, careful not to damage the dress still in your hands, and he stumbles back a little as the two of you hug. 

“I love it, baby. Thank you so much. I’m gonna feel like a princess wearing it. I’ll never want to take it off.”

Taeyong laughs at you, squeezing your hips. “You already _are_ a princess,” he says shyly. You wonder constantly at times like these how the man who performs “Baby Don’t Like It” and “No Manners” like _that_ and the man who can hardly stop himself from turning into a puddle when he tries to flirt with his girlfriend of _two years_ are the same person. Well, then again, you know it all comes from the same place… “But, um, don’t you want to try it on? To be sure?”

You kiss at the cutting edge of his jaw before pulling away with a smirk. “You want me to model it for you?”

Taeyong doesn’t miss a beat. “Please, babe?”

You step back into the open living room as he stays glued in front of the door, and you maintain eye contact while slipping off your yoga leggings, trying not to laugh and ruin the overly sultry act you’re putting on. Taeyong’s eyes flit around the room, flustered, and a flush tinges his cheeks. He always gets like this when you take your clothes off in front of him, even after all this time. It’s devastatingly cute. 

“You don’t want to watch?” you tease, pulling his sweatshirt over your head and letting it fall to the floor so you’re wearing nothing but the sheer heart design bra and panty set Taeyong had bought for you a while ago. Aside from heavy-duty lingerie, it’s his favorite thing to see you in. 

“I do,” Taeyong replies, fixing his gaze on you and swallowing. Heat curls in your stomach at the way he lets his eyes wander a little up and down your figure, but you school yourself quickly. _Right. That’s not what we’re doing right now. It’s dress-of-my-dreams time_. So, as much as you’d like to stay in your skivvies and strip him down too, you resist the urge and slip instead into the pastel puff of a dress you’ve been begging for all summer. 

It fits perfectly, the neckline dropping to just below your sternum and the waist cinching before splaying out into the layers of tulle that make up the skirt. Taeyong watches in delight as you do a little spin and feel the air kicking it up and turning it into a bell shape. 

“What do you think?” you ask once you’ve stilled. Taeyong’s eyes are wide. 

“It’s _so_ pretty, babe. You look amazing!” You hold your arms out to him to indicate you want him to come over and let you give him a thank-you hug. His expression melts into something even softer if that’s possible, and once he’s in your arms, you give him another kiss. He tastes like his bitter black coffee. You let him sway both of you back and forth and drum his hands on your ass. 

“There’s really nice light in here right now,” he murmurs into your ear. “We should get some pictures.” 

He’s right, of course; ever the selca expert. The gold of early evening has only grown warmer since you were looking out your apartment’s big windows earlier. You let Taeyong go reluctantly and hand him your phone so he can be your personal photographer for a few minutes. He’s very good at this – you know from experience and from seeing him do it on many occasions for his members. He coos all kinds of encouragements; _cute, nice, I like it, sexy_ ; and tells you where to stand, how to pose. 

Pretty soon, you’re lying together on your futon bed, sure not to crumple the dress as Taeyong flips through pictures to weed out the sub-par ones and you scratch comfortingly behind his ears. 

He pauses at one of you facing the camera mid-spin and laughing. “Instagram?” he asks. 

You nod. “Instagram.” 

He flips through a few more and sighs sweetly at the feel of your nails over his hairline. If he were a cat, he’d certainly be purring. That’s why he calls himself “Kittyong,” you suppose. 

As he scrolls through the photos, you start getting a little hung up on the price tag of the dress you’re wearing. It had cost nearly 600,000 won. Sure, he’d bought you more expensive gifts before, but this was the priciest thing you’d ever _asked_ him for, and that felt weird. 

“Taeyonggie,” you begin, stealing a glance at the collection of shopping bags still sitting between the front door and kitchen. You poke your boyfriend’s soft cheek. 

He looks up at you with his absurdly big eyes. “Mm?”

“How much did you spend today, by the way?” 

Taeyong demurs a bit. “About three and a half million won…” he finally answers. 

You let your nail dig in a little harshly next to his ear, but he barely reacts. You know he has a lot of money, so that’s not exactly a shocking sum for him, but still, it’s not like he’s obscenely wealthy either. _Maybe it’s a good thing he doesn’t have more days off_ , you think jokingly, _he’d just end up buying more stuff he doesn’t need_. 

“I know it’s bad,” he says, hitting the lock button on your phone and setting it down. “I’m sorry. I hadn’t been shopping in a while though, and it really helps with my anxiety, as silly as that is.” 

You move from scratching to playing with his hair, dropping a kiss to his part between the two colors. 

“Darling, you’re having anxiety again? Do you want to talk about it?”

Taeyong’s eyes flicker to the floor and back to you. He sits up and turns around so you’re sitting side by side. He nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck before resting it there. 

“It’s nothing, really,” he asserts. “I’m just still adjusting to the whole SuperM thing.”

You wrap an arm around his shoulder and play with his earring. Yeah, you know what this is about. 

“Not being Leader Taeyong?” you confirm.

He nods. “Mm-hm. My hyungs are just all so talented, and they know so much more than me, and I worry I look silly around them, and we do so much promoting in America and, and my English is so bad. I just – these are stupid things to let bother me but…yeah…”

He starts biting his nails, so you take his hands in yours and look at him straight on. 

“Yonggie, listen to me,” you begin. He nods, eyebrows knit. “I know you worry about this stuff naturally, and that I’m not going to change that. And you know what? Maybe that’s partly good, since it means you take your job really seriously and you always want to do your very best for your fans.” Taeyong’s lips edge into a smile. “But just because you’re promoting with more experienced idols right now doesn’t mean all those people will suddenly think any less of you. Baekhyun, Taemin, and Jongin think you’re awesome – almost as much as I do,” Taeyong giggles, “and your NCT dongsaengs still look up to you as their dear leader even if it’s Mark and Ten handling the English stuff.” You take Taeyong’s face in both hands and squish his cheeks. “You’re the best performer I’ve ever seen. And I’m not just saying that because I’m your girlfriend. Sure, you’re not the very greatest at every skill, but your presence? You kill me every damn time. No one has any reason not to love you. I’m not going to fix your self-confidence with this little speech, I know, but as far as I’m concerned, you have no reason not to think you’re god’s gift to this earth.” You give him a quick kiss on his forehead, his nose, his lips. He looks enamored. “Anyway,” you finish, “I just don’t want you to get worked up being too hard on yourself. It really hurts when you do that. Besides, aren’t you the guy who talked about how you shouldn’t worry too much about perfection or meeting other people’s standards? You should listen to your own advice.”

Taeyong looks at his hands. “I’m sorry,” he says. You huff a wry laugh. The meekness with which he apologizes goes against the entire pep talk you just gave him, but it’s whatever. You think it’ll do him some good if he internalized even ten percent of that. 

“C’mere.” You grab him in your arms and pull both of you back against the sheets.

“Babe,” he says into your chest as you pet his hair and he traces absently over one of your sequin strawberries. “Does this mean you’re not gonna scold me? For all the spending?” 

You chuckle, tangling your fingers in his hair and giving a light tug. 

“Do you want me to?” you ask. “Is that something you think you need?”

Taeyong nods, then looks at you innocently and whispers his lyrics from “Whiplash”: “I need a girl who can control me.” You snort. _Sister, my foot_. “Please scold me.” 

“Well, what am I supposed to do?” you ask. “Confiscate your credit card or something? That seems a little ridiculous.” 

He scowls, pursing his lips. “Probably not that.”

You roll your eyes at him. You know what he’s _really_ asking of you. He wiggles his eyebrows and hops up off the bed, making his way across the room. 

“I got you something else you haven’t seen yet. Remember? Presents, _plural_.” 

In all honesty, you’d been so excited about the dress that you truly hadn’t remembered. He pulls a small cardboard package out of a Nike bag and walks with it back over to you, placing it delicately in your lap. _What is he up to?_

You look at him for assurance and he gestures for you to go ahead. Once you’ve unpacked the box, you see clearly what’s inside and your hand flies over your mouth to stop you from choking on air. It’s a silicone dildo, a little over five inches long and an inch and a half in diameter, and it’s candy-pink – Taeyong’s favorite color. It’s shaped like an abstract rendering of a dick; no veins or anatomical details – all smooth. 

Taeyong picks it up, smirking, and gives it a once-over. Then, he points at you with the tip. 

“It’s for you,” he points it at himself now, “to use on me.” 

It’s not like you two haven’t done this before. In fact, it had become a regular part of your sex life. You just weren’t expecting it to come up right now.

“Taeyong, did you buy that in public?” you ask, balking. There’s no way – if he’d been recognized it would have been suicide for his career – but he’d just been out shopping and came over with all his spoils, including this, so you have to check. 

Now _Taeyong_ is balking. “No! I got it shipped to the dorm and brought it along for you. Who do you think I am? Aigoo.”

“Just double-checking,” you say, giggling. “None of the boys caught on?”

Taeyong rolls his eyes. “I mean, Yuta, Jungwoo, and Doyoung were the ones who actually got the delivery because I wasn’t there when it came.”

You flush. _Not those three_. 

Taeyong continues, disregarding your obvious discomfort. “But it's packaged discreetly, as you saw, and they were good and didn’t go through it. They did ask me what it was, but I told them to fuck off.” He smiles sassily, tacking on a final thought. “Honestly though,” he says, “it wouldn’t have caused any scandal. They’ve all heard us and know our dynamic at this point.” 

He’s right, you must admit. Taeyong might have his own room, but it’s still a dorm. That’s why you two prefer to do the do at your place. 

“Anyway,” he continues. “What do you think of it?”

You pluck the dildo from Taeyong’s grip and turn it around, observing it. 

“It’s super cute,” you say, a smirk creeping over your lips. “I dunno. Guess I won’t really have a fully-formed opinion until we take it for a test run.”

And that’s how you end up letting Taeyong talk you out of your coveted dress and into your pink faux leather O-ring harness, brand new dildo affixed to the front and your favorite remote-controlled bullet vibe nestled against your clit. You shuck your bra and help Taeyong with his hoodie, t-shirt, and jeans, and the two of you take your time initially, just kissing. You pull him close as he drags his lips over your neck and collar bones, scratching lightly around his ears and jawline. 

He presses an open kiss to your sternum, sucking until you hiss, and he pulls away. Already, his face is flushed a pretty orangey-pink color in the glowing light, his lips are swollen, he’s panting, and his hair has gone a bit unkempt. _What an image_. 

“You look so sexy with a dick,” he breathes, so earnest there’s not even a hint of teasing in his voice. 

“You too, baby,” you say snidely, pushing him back so he’s lying down against your bed and you can pepper kisses over his chest. He wiggles under your ministrations and you lick a stripe over his nipple, making him jolt softly against you as you flutter your seafoam-green-tipped fingers over his abs. Finally, they make their way to the waistband of his boxers.

“Off?” you ask, and he nods, sucking his bottom lip up into his teeth. “Can you use your words, baby?”

“Yes,” he says, eyes pinching shut, “please can they come off?”

You slip the boxers down his legs slowly, his cock popping free from where it was tenting just the slightest bit against them. He’s half hard, if you couldn’t already tell how worked up he is just from the way he’s acting. 

“You get excited so easily, darling,” you tease, ghosting your nails over his length like it’s a prop in an ASMR video and making his eyes roll back. “Is it because you were thinking about my new pink cock?”

“Mm-hm,” he assures, whining when the pad of your thumb drags over his head. “Yes, Miss. I – I can’t wait for you to fill me up. Please.”

You smile, admiring the way he falls so easily into titles and submission. For his members, he’s their competent and sometimes nagging leader and onstage to his fans, he can be pure intensity, but to you, he’s just Taeyonggie, the softest, meltiest boy ever to grace the earth. 

You stop teasing his dick long enough to grab a fistful of his multicolored hair and drag him an inch or so off the pillow for a deep kiss. When you pull away, his eyes are glassy and trained solely on you, like if he looks away, he’ll wake up from the greatest sex dream of his life. You trace your pointer finger over his jaw, his neck, his collarbone, reveling in the way he shivers at the lightest touch. 

“Of course, baby. Don’t you worry. I’m going to make sure you feel amazing and don’t have to think about any of your pesky anxieties while you’re with me. Just focus on me and you’ll be alright.” He nods, swallowing hard. “Good boy.” His eyes flutter at the praise and his lips twitch into a trance-like smile. You hover over him, eyes scouring his face to keep this moment memorized as the two of you breathe each other’s air. You love him. How could you not? 

You lean over fully, sucking and biting at Taeyong’s chest until it’s blossoming with little red and purple marks and he has his head turned to the side, whimpering into the pillow. His arms come up to cradle you against him and you let him take comfort in and ground himself by kneading the skin of your lower back. 

After another glance at your nails, you decide it probably won’t be too comfortable for you to prep him, so you tell him that as part of his scolding, he has to do it himself (“you’re already getting fucked, baby boy. You don’t get everything done for you”). In return, you’ll play with his cock while he does it.

You pull a bottle of lube from next to your bed and hand it to him, watching as he musters enough mental fortitude to cover his fingers with it and press the first one in slowly up to the knuckle, then all the way. You put your hands on his thighs and spread his legs ever so slightly so you can get a better view as he closes his eyes and rocks his hips a little, slipping a second finger in next to the first. 

“You make it look so easy, baby,” you admire, and his face goes an even deeper shade of fuchsia, like a roller plunged into a can of paint.

“Thank you, Miss.”

“Open your eyes,” you command, ~~considering singing “The 7th Sense” to him and completely throwing him off his rhythm.~~ They open, blinking heavily, and you smile, fond. “Bet you wish those were my fingers, hm? Could fit so many inside you.”

“Mm-hm, mm-hm.”

“Can you add another for me?” He does, almost too easily. By now, he’s worked himself to being fully hard, precome starting to glisten at his tip. “You know I don’t want to hurt you though, baby,” you say, finishing your thought. You dig a nail into Taeyong’s oblique to illustrate your point and drag it through the skin, hard, leaving a long red mark that makes Taeyong sigh. He shakes his head as if to say _I could take it_ , and you know he could. 

You chuckle, the sound seeming faraway – it’s the detached edge you naturally take on in bed with your boyfriend. 

“I bet you _really_ wish you had my cock right about now.” He nods affirmatively. 

“Please, Miss, give it to me?” His voice comes out like gravel, contrasting almost absurdly with the high-pitched, wispy moans he emits as he finds his prostate. You love his voice. It’s never mattered whether his lyrics make no sense or reveal too much about your sex life, the unique and low timbre of his voice has always fascinated and turned you on so much, and once you heard it in an intimate context for the first time, you could never, ever get enough of it. 

You cock your head to the side, wrapping your fist around his dick and making him let out a gut-punched noise. 

“I won’t fuck you just yet,” you say, jerking him slowly, slowly, slowly so he’s trying to rut into your grip for more friction, fingers slowing almost to a halt. “Don’t stop, darling. I want you to put in a little more work for it is all. I could watch you do this all day.” His brow knits and he pouts, but he doesn’t complain, settling his hips back down like the good boy he is and working his fingers in and out, in and out.

You lean down to lick from the base to the head of Taeyong’s cock, and he keens against the bed, struggling to keep a steady pace as he fucks himself on his fingers. When you lap at the tip with little kitten licks, he takes his entire bottom lip between his teeth to muffle the groan of “Mmmmmm, mm-hm,” that emanates from his throat. You keep eye-contact as you sink down, taking him in your mouth and swirling your tongue to get him nice and wet for you to jack him off. 

He sighs at the feel of you. “Thank you, Miss,” he says, voice breaking high. 

You pop back off and he sobs into his forearm at the break of contact, though he’s soothed a second later when you replace your mouth with a hand, using the other to play with his balls. You moan, high and breathy and a bit teasing, mostly for his benefit but also because you’re losing yourself the slightest bit at the way he’s splayed out under you, opening himself up just like you’d told him to with his skin hot and shimmery pink. 

“You like that, baby boy?” you ask, tongue flicking out to wet your lips unconsciously. “You like when I play with you like this?” He doesn’t answer. His eyes are shut tight and you figure he’s too lost in pleasure to process anything on his own. You stop the movement of your hands, pressing a nail into his slit just hard enough to get his attention. His eyes fly open and he drags in a ragged breath. _There we go_. “Hm, darling?” 

He gulps. “I’m sorry Miss! I – I, _shit_ , I like it so much – I love it. _Please_ don’t stop.”

You laugh languidly. “My slutty little sweetheart,” you coo. “Rather get your ass toyed than fuck me. That’s true, isn’t it?”

He shakes his head, adding a fourth finger even though you didn’t tell him to, simply because he can. 

“M’not slutty. Just for – for you.” 

You twist your hands around him and follow the motion with a couple faster jerks of your wrist. “Oh? Is that so?” He nods. “What about the way you dance onstage? You’re a lucky guy that I’m okay with so many people seeing you that way.” 

You know you’re being silly. It’s his job and you only rarely get jealous – plus, most of the dances really aren’t that scandalous – but you’ve had your moments. Like when he’d refused to let you see any of the “Baby Don’t Like It” choreo (which had been his idea) until it debuted at the concert and you were forced to stand there, frustrated and utterly unprepared as he slunk around the stage like a stripper and rapped about wanting a girl to ruin him. That night, you made him wear those stupid pink sunglasses that were part of the stage outfit as you held your Hitachi Magic Wand to his dick until he was crying (“you’re lucky I’m not hitting or kicking you or something,” you’d said a bit cruelly, referencing something Taeyong explicitly asks for in his verse of the song). 

“I only think about you onstage,” he says. “As long as you like it that’s all that matters.” You know this isn’t fully true; Taeyong adores his fans almost as fervently as he adores you, and as much as he likes to hide it, you know he feeds on praise and attention like nothing else. It’s partly what motivates him to always be improving. Still, the kernel of truth that he’s constantly trying to seduce _you_ in particular when he’s performing goes straight to your ego by way of your throbbing pussy.

“Aw, that’s very sweet, Taeyonggie.” He hums at that. 

His dick dribbles precome over your fingers, wetting the gliding motion even more than your leftover spit. You adjust how you’re kneeling on the bed, registering with the movement how soaked you are just from watching Taeyong and talking him through his own pleasure, and you haven’t even turned the vibrator on yet. 

“Miss?” Taeyong’s voice is little, the way he talks when he’s happy – or shy. You figure he’s probably a bit of both. You lean forward, ready to tend to him. “Can I have your tits, Miss?”

You’re more than happy to oblige him, leaning down to press a deep kiss onto his mouth and then knee-walking further forward, pink cock bobbing, until he can suckle at your nipples. It feels _so_ good, and a fluttery heat does summersaults in your gut at the sensation, threatening to fuzz your mind and make you forget to continue pleasuring him with your hands.

He whimpers, pulling off and looking up at you, wrecked. 

“Pl – please, Miss, I’m so close,” he says. 

“Let me hear you beg for it, baby.” He’ll do anything you say, within reason, so you hatch a plan. This is supposed to have an element of scolding to it, after all. 

He whines. “It feels too good, I can’t – I can’t,” he says.

“Can’t what?” you coo, playing dumb. His hips stutter. 

“I can’t do this much longer without coming,” he warns. “Please let me.”

His eyes fill with expectant hope for an instant before glazing over as he gives up and starts to let go. But before anything can really happen, you take your hands off his dick and reach down to pull his fingers from his hole, leaving him to shudder through a ruined orgasm with no stimulation whatsoever. He squeaks, tears pooling in his eyes without spilling over. 

“No fair.” 

You adjust yourself so you can admire his clenching asshole and still angry red cock, then regard his face wickedly out of the corner of your eye. 

“I think it _is_ fair though, baby,” you explain. “Naughty boys with spending problems don’t get to come whenever they want to because then how would they learn self-control?” Taeyong sighs, shaky and painfully aware that his own musings had initiated this. 

“You’re right, Miss,” he manages to get out. “Thank you for teaching me.”

“That’s a good boy,” you say, and he smiles like a kitten as you straddle his belly. You can tell he feels how wet you are against his skin by the way he lets out a little “hungf” noise once you’re on top of him. You splay your hands flat over his chest and move them up and down, just feeling him.

“You don’t even want to learn your lesson, do you, baby?” you tease. “You just act out with the spending so you can get a good fucking, isn’t that right? That’s okay. At least you have lots of money you can use to buy me nice things. The only reason I’m not being harsher with you is you had the good sense to bring me that gorgeous dress. Would you spoil me like that, sweetheart?”

Taeyong purses his lips, nodding furiously and staring at the pink dildo on his sternum. 

“Anything you want, Miss.” 

You place a finger against your lips, pretending to think. “ _Anything_ I want? Hm, well what if right now I want you to worship this pretty little cock you got for me?”

“Please.”

You scoot up until you’re straddling his collar and you can reach his mouth with the dildo. He takes the end of it, sucking at it wetly, and you scramble to pick up the remote for your vibrator, switching it on to a low setting. You sigh when it starts, finally getting some stimulation on your swollen clit. You press the dildo further in, loving the way he hollows out his cheeks and lets you fuck his face, slow and shallow. You dip a finger into his mouth next to it, feeling his lips start to stretch a bit and humming in appreciation. 

“Kittyong and his little oral fixation,” you say contemplatively, and he blinks at you. “How cute.” He mewls around his mouthful, and between the vibe and the image of him sucking you off, you decide it’s time to stop playing around and just fuck him already. 

“Okay baby,” you say, pulling out and pinching his cheek. “You ready for this cock? You’ve waited so patiently to test it out.”

He pants when his airway is unobstructed. “Yes, Miss. Pretty please.”

You tell him to get on his hands and knees, and despite how obviously fucked he is, he manages to pull his body into the position with an impressive level of dexterity. You stand on your knees, rubbing some lube over the pink silicone and then dropping a small glob onto Taeyong’s entrance, making him gasp. 

“I know you like it nice and wet, baby,” you say, rubbing the dildo through the slickness in the cleft of his ass a few times and then lining yourself up. “Dirty boy.”

If he had a response to give, it gets stolen by the feeling of you pressing slowly into him. He moans openly as you kick the dial on your remote up to a higher setting. 

You moan too, long and drawn out. You decide you’d better get moving before you lose all control. 

You thrust into him, steadying Taeyong under you with one hand on his hip and the other over his lower back. You usually top from the metaphorical bottom; it’s easier that way and the dynamic has supplied you with some of your fondest masturbation-worthy memories. For instance, the time Taeyong was gone for months to promote in North America before you’d even been dating for a year, and you’d come over to the 127 dorms as soon as he’d gotten settled back home, showing him just how much you’d missed him by tying his arms to his bed with your favorite belt of his and riding him until he was begging you to stop and you could hardly feel your legs. You hadn’t even bothered to take off your bra or his cozy red cashmere sweater, the collar of which stayed caught between his teeth half the time you fucked yourself on him, just so he could have something in his mouth as he turned a matching shade and you teased him about how pitiful he must feel, unable to grab your hips to control the pace, or even to remove your underwear and touch your pretty, bouncy tits. 

You think that’s the first time any of the boys heard you two having sex, because come on, how could they not have? Johnny had been gone doing something when you’d started, but when you were finished and out the door, he was in the hallway, looking equal parts impressed and freaked out and asking if he could have his room back yet or did it “need to be aired out first?” Donghyuck, Taeyong had reported, teased him about it relentlessly for weeks, moaning high notes Taeyong can’t even reach just to make him blush. 

So yeah, you’re more than satisfied with the way things usually end up, but it’s a different kind of rush to be the one inside your boyfriend instead of the other way around. You love how easy it is to control his body, the breathiness his voice takes on and the insistence of his moans when you hit the right spot, the way your pretty dildos disappear inside his greedy hole (because if you get to choose any cock you want, why not a cute one?), and most of all the way he feels purely, wholly _yours_ . You know he loves you and doesn’t have eyes for anyone else, but you can’t help feeling at times like you share him with millions of fans who might come at your throat if they found out you existed. Moments like this, buried inside him and blissed out as every thrust presses the vibe harder against your clit, you don’t feel the need to worry about that. You know he’s yours because he’s _showing_ you just how much he is. 

You lean over him and drop a disgustingly wet, open-mouthed kiss halfway down his spine. He groans, the sound dissipating into a series of grunts and gasps coinciding with the rhythm of him bouncing on your cock. You bite his shoulder and he hisses. He makes so many weird noises doing random things day to day, so you were never surprised by the myriad ways he verbalizes his pleasure to you. 

“This feels amazing,” he rasps.

You slip a hand over his throat, pulling his head up a bit and adding pressure at the sides of his neck under his unnecessarily sharp jawline. You wish you had a mirror you could face to watch the way Taeyong’s mouth is undoubtedly falling open. _Next time_. 

“Yeah?” you say. “You like this new cock, baby boy? I’m glad it feels nice. It looks nice fucking you, too.”

Your slick drips down your inner thighs and you know you’re getting dangerously close. 

“Are you gonna come hard for me this time, Taeyonggie?” you ask. “Not like your pathetic showing earlier?” 

Taeyong whimpers. “I am, Miss,” he pants, voice tight in your grip. “So hard. All for you. Please, please touch me?”

You let up off his neck, giving him your thumb to hold in his mouth for comfort. 

“Oh baby,” you say. “But you said you’d give me anything I wanted. And now, I want you to come untouched. It’s so sexy when you do, you know, and you’re so good at it.” 

Taeyong whines against your finger and you extract it, pulling yourself fully up and bending a leg up to fuck him harder with your hands on his waist. He squeals at the change of pace. 

“Yes, Miss,” he assures. “I can do it. Gonna come untouched for you. Gonna come really hard.”

“That’s a good boy.” You want to tell him how proud he makes you, but you think that would be a little corny. He does make you proud though, not just when he takes directions so well, without a complaint, but all the time. He makes you proud to be his girl just by existing as himself, proud to have him as your boy, even if almost no one gets to know. 

Two and a half years ago, you were surprised to learn that you and Doyoung had a close mutual friend. Apparently, he and Doyoung had discussed you on several occasions, and eventually you met the NCT vocalist, hitting it off immediately. Soon after, they decided behind your back to set you up with none other than the face of NCT himself, Lee _fucking_ Taeyong. You were supremely freaked out at first, sure he was astronomically out of your league, but your friends assured you he was chronically lonely despite his celebrity and good looks, and you were the exact type of person he would want to be with: someone who can guide him and make up for his shortcomings. And by some cosmic trick, he liked you. 

You knew (from watching him perform over the years as a casual fan) but especially from dating him, that he might quite literally kill you. You fully expected one day to just keel over because you’d forgotten to eat – too obsessed with Taeyong to perform any of the tasks required for maintaining homeostasis. And hey, if that did happen, it would be worth it. 

You click your vibrator up a little higher. “Oh, fuck yeah.”

“I need to come,” says Taeyong. “Please.” 

You think you should keep a tally of the number of times he says “please” when you’re fucking, so you can tease him about it later.

“Can you hold it a little longer for me, angel? I want you to wait until after I do. Self-control, remember?”

Taeyong nods before dropping to his elbows and pressing his forehead into the mattress. _He won’t need to wait long_. 

You come, shaking into your thrusts and moaning at the warm wave of pleasure that spreads from your clit and through your stomach, tingling all over your body. The aftershocks that rock you as the vibe continues to buzz make you struggle to stay upright, but you ride them out, trying to keep some kind of rhythm for your boyfriend. He whimpers, presumably because he hears all the noises you’re making behind him and he’s getting desperate. You flick the vibrator off once you’re satisfied, and Taeyong looks at you around his shoulder, eyes blown out. He doesn’t even have to beg.

“Okay, baby boy, your turn.”

He doesn’t waste any time, shaking and wailing under you as he comes hard, streaking milky white over the puddle of precome he’d already left on your bed. 

“Ah, thank you, Miss, thank you, Miss, thank you, thank you, thank you…” he chants between convulsions, and once he’s gotten most of it out, you decide to give him a hand, literally, despite what you’d said. You jack off his wet cock as you fuck him slowly through the end of his orgasm. You jerk your hand quickly over his head and he twitches. 

“Is that all you’ve got in there, baby?” you whisper into his ear, as little “ah, ah, ah’s” dribble out of his mouth onto your pillow along with his drool. “I want to get every last drop.”

His hips spasm and his foot kicks up next to your hip as you hold the dildo still all the way inside and continue with your hand on him. He spurts another, thinner jolt of come over your fingers. 

“Good boy.”

Taeyong’s face twists up at the overstimulation. 

“Ah, ah, okay, please stop! That’s all I can do right now.”

You release his cock with a smile and shove your come-dirtied fingers in his mouth. He closes his eyes and hums around them, cleaning them off eagerly. You pull out of him gingerly and he grunts. Then, you lean over to kiss him on the temple.

“My perfect boy,” you praise. “You are, aren’t you?”

Taeyong opens his eyes slowly and nods, blushing. 

“So pretty,” you observe, licking some of his come from your knuckle. “Dirty, but pretty.” You fuck your mostly clean fingers in and out of his mouth, then tell him to open up so you can watch the pad of your middle finger drag circles over his tongue. He lets you do this as he blinks at you, patient. 

After you’ve had enough of playing with his mouth, you roll with him to the clean part of the bed (thanking yourself for buying a queen size) and hold him against your side. You pat his two-tone hair and he kisses absently at your collar, shoulder, and neck. You start to feel weird with the harness and dildo still on you, so once he’s lucid enough, Taeyong insists on slipping it off you so you can lie together naked. 

“I’m the luckiest girl in the world,” you say. You tell him this all the time, but that’s only because you believe it’s true. 

“Stop it,” he mumbles into your chest. “I’m the luckiest _person_.”

“Oh, okay, really raised me that one, didn’t you?” you tease. 

“Sorry I probably stained your sheets. Again...” Taeyong says with a laugh. “It’s kinda gross.”

“That’s fine,” you say, giggling as you turn back into your regular self. “We’re kinda gross.” Taeyong makes a face like he’s considering your words for a moment, then accepts them as true. “Besides,” you continue, “I’ll get a little rush whenever I see the spot.”

Taeyong looks mortified. “Oh _no_ …”

You swat his shoulder. “Stop, don’t be weird about it,” you whine. “Anyway, did I make you feel good? Did I relax you a little, at least?”

“Well,” Taeyong says, tone joking, “it didn’t quite measure up to shopping –”

This time you don’t swat his shoulder – you hit it. 

“Aish! Ouch, I’m only joking, babe,” he complains. “Seriously though, that was incredible. No one could ever make me feel as good as you do.”

You grin, and he grins right back. 

“Okay,” you say, feeling like your heart is going to shoot up into your head through your throat. “ _I’m_ the luckiest person ever, full stop.”

He just laughs.

***

You put the bedding in the washing machine and redress the mattress, sending Taeyong to the bathroom to get a shower going (you’ll be there in five minutes, you promise). Then, you clean and put away the new dildo and harness. Outside, the sky is an inverted bowl of ombre glass, dark periwinkle at the top and dusty pink at the edges of the horizon – the same color as your new dress. Lights are starting to sparkle on in the high-rises of downtown. 

You sip the remains of your macchiato, which is now little more than a slurry of chilled water, cream, and vague particles of caramel and coffee, then shuffle-run to the bathroom. Taeyong is leaning his head against the glass of the shower from the outside, hand outstretched in the spray of water as he waits for a good temperature. He smiles softly when he sees you. 

You get in together once the water is steaming; hot water isn’t supposed to be good for your skin, but it feels so nice on your sore muscles. You wash each other’s hair with your peach-scented shampoo, taking way longer than you should because you keep stealing kisses and getting overly handsy. It had been decided that a shower was better than a bath because it was less likely to lead to more sex and make you miss dinner (see???? You had a point about wasting away from love!). 

When you get out, you put your hair in a towel crown and Taeyong fluffs his dry until it’s falling flat and stiff around his face. 

“Will you wear the strawberry dress again?” Taeyong asks you as you exit the bathroom and head to the kitchen to fill up a couple of water bottles. 

“Of course,” you say, obviously. “I’m gonna wear it all the time!”

“No,” Taeyong says shyly. “Like right now.” 

“Oh!” You hand him a bottle and he thanks you, twisting it open to rehydrate. “While we’re just chilling?”

He shrugs. “Why not?” he says. “I want to see you in it again, and we can be careful it doesn’t wrinkle.”

You smile broadly. You felt amazing in the dress, so Taeyong won’t need to work any harder to convince you. “Okay,” you say. “I’ll wear it for you, baby.”

You put it on as Taeyong shimmies into his underwear and jeans and trades his blue sweatshirt for the tan one you’d been wearing earlier. He says he wants it back, so you can keep the ‘Unicorns and Rainbows’ one instead. 

He snaps a quick picture of you in the dress, saying you look even better now, hair still buried in a towel and skin radiant with afterglow. You say you doubt it. 

You traipse over to your boyfriend and take his hands, unsure how to begin what you want to say. 

“Taeyong,” you start. 

“Yeah?” He pouts, eyebrows scrunching up. 

You feel embarrassed. Someone really needs to save you from the things you let yourself say when your horniness is talking. “I know I mentioned something weird about wanting you to buy a lot of expensive things for me, but I hope you know that was just dirty talk. I don’t _actually_ want you to do that. You were feeling funny about what you spent today and I guess you wanted me to like, punish you for it, you know, but I don’t want to make it worse or make you uncomfortable or make you think I’m with you for unsavory reasons, or –”

“ _Babe_ ,” Taeyong interrupts, shutting you up. Wow, you hadn’t even realized how much you were rambling, nor how amused it seemed to make your boyfriend. He laughs at you and you feel yourself blushing. “I know that,” he continues. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll buy you what I want to buy you, but I don’t think you’re trying to pressure me or anything.” He’s laughing more now – full on “heeheehee.” You want to hit him. You want to hit yourself. 

“Sorry,” he says, sighing his way out of a giggle. “You’re just so cute when you’re not fucking me.”

You roll your eyes and drop his hands, folding your arms huffily. “Yeah, okay, whatever.” 

“I really should chill out on the shopping though,” he admits. “I’m running out of space for all my things.”

Taeyong tells you he can stay the night since he has tomorrow morning off, and you’re both too exhausted to cook (even though it’s one of your favorite couple’s activities since it’s tricky to eat out one-on-one and Taeyong is an amazing cook), so you decide to order delivery pizza. 

Taeyong sits facing you on a stool at your kitchen counter, drinking the dregs of his americano and scrolling through a menu on his phone. 

“By the way,” he says without looking up from the screen, “you’re right about the SuperM stuff.” It takes you a second to remember exactly what you’d said to him, but you do. He looks up at you now. “It’s not healthy for me to hold these beliefs about performance and effort while not actually living them. I need to treat myself with the same toughness, but the same grace that I’d extend to others.” 

Your heart molds your lips into a touched smile. “Yeah,” you say. “I’m glad you agree.”

The pizza comes and you pull a couple beanbags (because despite your impressive productivity today, you’re still not enough of a Legit Adult to have much real furniture) in front of the projector to watch Howl’s Moving Castle – Taeyong’s favorite movie – while you eat dinner. 

Near the end, he gets the idea to make chocolate-covered strawberries (“to match the dress!” he says), so you do, and he insists on being extra cliché and feeding them to you, careful not to drip chocolate onto your dress. 

You clean up your food and slip into your pajamas (which, for him, means his boxers – save you) and you curl up together in your freshly clean bed, Taeyong promising to model _his_ new buys before he leaves tomorrow.

You squeeze your sweet boy against you, watching a plane’s lights flash in the inky sky and listening to Taeyong’s soft sighs. You really are the luckiest person in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please consider leaving me a comment or a kudo if you liked it! You'll make my day, I guarantee it :D
> 
> Also a new YuMark chapter is up! 
> 
> [tumblr](https://nakamoto-l.tumblr.com/)


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